


palm reading in the dark

by ghoulfern



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Forgiveness, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M, Post-War, soft boys who love to forgive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 11:47:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29295396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghoulfern/pseuds/ghoulfern
Summary: It begins here for him, as the leaves are tugged gently away from their branches: everything, mercifully unraveling.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Kudos: 19





	palm reading in the dark

Autumn rumbles in softly, a low humming sort of sound that reminds Draco of childhood. It is inevitable that he feels melancholic, as he is already inclined to do 

It's his first proper day back at Hogwarts-- as proper as it can remain, at least, following something so callous and unthinkable as war. 

Of course, he has little hope for the day. It's early, but he knows it doesn't matter.. Sitting here in the dormitory, he can easily visualize all of the blood that remains _out there,_ all of his memories, as if carved into the stonework of each corridor as macabre cave paintings of a faraway, inconceivable past. There is no magic powerful enough to scrub such a thing away, something that haunts from a place of such brutality. 

He closes his eyes and the thought fades a little. He can pretend for now that he isn't at Hogwarts-- he isn't anywhere. In his mind, he is safe.

It begins here for him, as the leaves are tugged gently away from their branches: everything, mercifully unraveling.

* * *

Draco is perched upon the edge of his bed, his face tilted to catch the breeze from the open window. He leans closer, inhales deep, as much as he can bear, and he holds that breath there, until his chest feels like it will burst. He wants there to be nothing left inside of him, nothing but this, nothing but... _nothing_. He feels almost at peace, floating here in the emptiness of the sky, breathing in crisp morning air. It helps him to feel less imprisoned. 

“Morning.” 

Draco's breath is knocked out of him at the intrusion--he might as well have been in a trance. He glances up to see who has walked in on him dumbly gazing out the window, and his heart sinks.

Harry Potter, a rather gangly thing now, stands uncertainly in the doorway, his mouth tugged into some sort of confused frown. 

_Of course it would be him_ , Draco thinks, petulantly, _of all people._

“I'm not doing anything,” Draco answers automatically. The instinctively sharp edge to his voice is something that now feels impossibly ancient to him, and he frowns, feeling vaguely ashamed of himself. This interaction already feels like a dream, or a memory. So childish as to be obscene.

"Sorry," he mutters, unclenching his jaw. Hesitantly, he meets Harry's eye, and Harry stares back, his own expression softening. Somehow, Draco can sense an understanding between the two of them, and the remaining anger within him dissipates. “Just...” Draco turns to look out the window again. “I'm tired,” he admits, choosing to keep it honest. 

“Haven't been sleeping?” Harry inquires, too quickly, and Draco shoots him a judgmental look. Harry shrugs. “I'm... er, not much of a sleeper myself. Lately.” He rubs at the back of his neck, vulnerable and suddenly a bit shy. It looks strange on him, but not wrong. “Or _ever_ , really.”

Draco continues to look at him, not saying anything. It scares him to know how much they actually have in common with one another, down to the smallest idiosyncrasies. Harry flushes a little bit, taking his silence as annoyance, and says, somewhat apologetically, “sorry... I'm trying to be a little less nosy, but--” He clears his throat. “I don't know how to interact with you otherwise, really,” he admits. 

“Oh, it's alright,” Draco says dismissively, sitting up a bit straighter. “I don't know how to talk to you, either, for what it's worth.” 

They gaze at one another for a long moment. Draco feels shaken by how normal it seems, to be here with Harry, surveying one another in silence. He comes back to himself, blinking dazedly.

“I need to get to Defense,” he murmurs, standing from his bed. He plucks his wand from his nightstand—a new one, of course, and it feels foreign in his hand—and turns to face Harry.

He doesn't quite know what to do with him. The fact that he's still standing there, seemingly waiting for him to get his things in order, is actually making him a bit nervous.

“ _What_?” Draco asks finally, a flicker of irritation crossing his face despite his best efforts to keep it polite.

Harry looks briefly caught, but then he laughs, shakes his head. “I, um... I came up here to find you, actually. I didn't...” He clears his throat and looks away. His hair is still a ludicrous goddamn mess, as always. “...didn't see you at breakfast.”

“Still spying on me?” Draco remarks, with far less venom than Harry seemed to have been expecting--his eyebrows go up, and he smiles.

“No, actually,” Harry says. “I, er-- well, that's what I wanted to talk to you about.” His smile fades a little, and he takes his first cautious step into the dormitory room.

Draco gets a better look at him, now, and he can see that his hair isn't just predictably unkempt-- it's _long._ He's not often reminded of just how much time has passed, but the messy bun Harry's sporting certainly drives the point home. He looks... well, bizarrely enough, he looks a bit like Sirius. 

“You, uh--” Draco's throat has gone dry, and he swallows, shakes his head, tries again. “What exactly did you want to say?” He's standing just beside his bed, his wand still dangling from his fingers, his knapsack in the other hand. He hadn't been expecting this. 

Harry lets out a deep breath. “Sorry, I'm being vague about it,” he says, almost to himself. He's staring down at his hands, seemingly at odds now with his decision to come here at all. “Hermione told me to be straightforward...” 

“...Hermione...?” Draco repeats quietly, and Harry glances up at him, his words petering out. A thoughtful pause, and then:

“I wanted to apologize,” Harry says, deliberate. “I was a bit of a...” He searches Draco's eyes, then, as if he wants him to be the one to say it, and so he happily does:

“--a prick?” Draco suggests, smiling. He's found that his knapsack has made it to the floor, so he stuffs his wand into his back pocket, too. Forget all of it. Harry, adorably, blushes.

"Sure," he chuckles. "And... a hypocrite... attempted murderer..." He holds up a hand, tallying away his misdeeds on each finger with an amused, childlike grin. "...overall tosspot..."

"Don't give yourself _all_ of the credit," Draco interjects, and Harry stops speaking. He drops his arms back down to his sides, stuffing his hands into his pockets instead. "After all, I was a rather suspicious little gremlin," Draco continues, his smile waning. "Always sneaking about the way I did..." He sighs, his gaze once more returning to the allure of the window. "An absolute misery to be around," he finishes solemnly. 

"You were certainly lively," Harry says, nodding, and Draco glances at him, surprised to hear him speaking so fondly. "And _very_ snobby, of course..." A pause. Draco realizes he's holding his breath. "But I think you were just doing what you could to survive."

This surprises Draco; it seems to render him speechless. He suspects that this might be some sort of joke. 

Harry meets him here, in this moment of pause,, waiting for him to speak. His eyes are bright with honeyed sunlight. 

"You do?" Draco asks, his voice quiet. It can't be a joke.

"Of course," Harry answers, shrugging calmly. Draco is shaken by how matter-of-fact he sounds. 

"Well... thank you," he murmurs, hesitant, not knowing what else is appropriate to say. 

They stare at each other from across the room, vibrating together in this strange new space they've created between one another. It feels like finally stretching out and yawning. Relief. 

Harry grins at him. "You look good," he says. His tone is utterly casual, and yet Draco's stomach feels like it's about to burst out of him. He watches as Harry's eyes jump to the window, briefly surveying the sky. Then they're back on Draco. The air has changed entirely. 

"D'you want to skip class and go grab a bite, then, Draco?" he asks casually. It sounds impossibly familiar, like he speaks to him this way every day. Draco can feel the grip of this moment like fire in his chest. 

"Sure, Harry," he answers. 

They leave together, side by side, as the sun finishes rising.

**Author's Note:**

> idk if im gonna make this a multi-chapter thing or not, we'll see


End file.
